A poem

by josephzizys

too many weeks
with too little sleep
coughing from the chest
.
the crying child
demands too much
of an exhausted mother
.
little things don’t work
catastrophes far away
alter our delicate balancing act-
deprive us
of our small supports –
and we fall down
.
the eldest, just four and a half
sensing something he cannot comprehend
becomes hysterical
.
it is a hot day
and we have obligations
we have to go
.
then my 2 year old
tries to stick his dick
into a large lego block
.
lolz